


Dine and Dash

by ArtemisRae



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Afternoon delight, F/M, Prompt Fic, also there were mimosas, percy and annabeth are ridiculous and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRae/pseuds/ArtemisRae
Summary: Rachel had spent months planning the charity event that Percy and Annabeth just ditched in favor of making out in the back of a cab and the sloppy sex in which they were currently engaged.





	Dine and Dash

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short and silly response to the prompt "Percy/Annabeth, French pastries, a blue suit, a record player."

“You look amazing. You look so good in blue. Have I told you you look so good in blue?” Percy knew he was babbling; something about this view of Annabeth inspired that in him.

She labored above him, back arched, nails digging into his chest while she rode him. Somewhere between shucking off her own dress and climbing on top of him she’d shrugged the jacket from his suit back on; when he drove his heels into the mattress to thrust up into her he could feel the trouser leg that was still wrapped around one ankle.

The suit in question was his; royal blue, impeccably tailored, and bought specifically for the charity brunch that they’d just ditched in favor of making out in the back of a cab and the sloppy sex in which they were currently engaged.

She bowed over, teeth clenched, bracing herself against his elbows. Her braid, pulled over one shoulder, brushed his chest.

“Love you, love you, love you in blue.” His mouth was still going, but he couldn’t help it; he didn’t have the same view of her face in ecstasy as before but he could see a drop of sweat rolling down near her navel and feel her legs shaking where they were locked around his thighs, and that was somehow just as good.

Annabeth was beyond words; she leaned forward, rocked frantically- trying to get friction, he knew, right where she needed it, and if she’d just let go of his arms he could try and help her get there but her grip was death-tight and with a breathless whimper she let go, convulsed around him, curling even tighter into herself as she rode out the orgasm.

“You’re good at that,” he told her when she went still. She huffed a hot breath that might have been a laugh against his chest. She straightened up, squinted at him in the noonday sun that was shining through the ( _ crap their blinds were open _ ) windows, blinking at him as if she’d just noticed he was there.

He patted her ass affectionately. She blinked, a tiny pout on her face, and then reached out and brushed her thumb on his neck and then popped it in her mouth. “You still have powdered sugar on your neck.”

“I had a beignet in my mouth when you yanked me out of there by my tie.” He told her, frowning as he remembered their ungracious exit. Rachel had been putting the event together for months; she was not going to be happy when she realized they had left. “Speaking of which…”

He ran his hands over her hips, looking for the pockets of the jacket. Annabeth leaned away from him, watching in confusion, until he pulled a small package out of the pocket and unwrapped it triumphantly.

“Beignet?” he offered, tearing the small fritter in half. “You probably want something in your stomach before you go back to sleep. You’ve only had like…. Sixteen mimosas for breakfast.”

“Not sixteen!” she protested. Her hand shook as she bit into it, and he watched, eyes involuntarily tracking the powdered sugar that sprinkled down his coat and across her breasts. He wanted to lick them. Annabeth thought for a moment, ran her tongue over her lips, and mumbled, more to herself than him, “Maybe sixteen.”

Mouth full, she rolled off of him and curled into his side, licking her fingers contentedly. It wouldn’t be long before she dozed off. He was settling in for a good afternoon nap himself when he heard his phone going off.

It took a moment for the two of them to work out their respective limbs; they managed to fish the phone out of the coat pocket just before it cut to voicemail.

“Piper,” Percy greeted, trying not to wince as Annabeth’s elbow connected with his flank as she flopped back down next to him.

“Ask her how many mimosas  _ she _ had,” Annabeth slurred snidely. It was true that Piper had collected Annabeth the moment they’d arrived at the brunch; he chalked up her error in judgement regarding the amount of champagne she’d imbibed to number of all nighters she’d been pulling for work recently but now he idly wondered how big a role the charm-speaking daughter of Aphrodite had played.

Not that it mattered. He’d had sex after all.

“Might want to avoid the Oracle for a couple of lifetimes,” Piper informed them. “Her face was the same color as her hair when she realized you two were gone.”

“Sorry,” Percy told her uselessly. It was hard to feel sorry in an afterglow like theirs.

“Anyway, you won one of the raffles. I had to collect it on your behalf. Did you know Annabeth put in a ticket for an antique sideboard turntable?”

He sincerely hoped not. They had no room in their closet sized apartment for any new furniture. “Hey, did you really? Where are we going to put that?”

“Don’t look at me,” Annabeth murmured. Her eyes were closed and she was dozing off. “I had like, sixteen mimosas.”

“No, not sixteen!” Piper immediately protested. Then, after a good ten second silence, conceded, “Well… maybe sixteen.”

 


End file.
